Work Text:
Three years of effort, spent to split one second.
When their mind was on racing, the average Umamusume could run a mile in a little over a minute and a half.
To do better was what a trainer was for. Sometimes, the trainer chose their trainee; a few times, it was the other way around.
"I'm here to help you understand how to be a trainer in this place, but the rest is up to you."
Said the secretary. She would hide nothing.
"In three years, one and all under this roof will have their chance to shine!"
Said the eccentric director, whose cat was as much an accessory of her outfit as her hat and her fan.
"Simply amazing! To hear that you'd climb Mount Everest or swim the Marianas trench for the dreams of your trainee!"
Said the sportswriter. It sounded ridiculous at first, but less so over time, even when she said the same thing, again and again over those three years.
"With my family's knowledge, I know just what to do!"
Said the noble trainer, the latest in a line of many who had been handed down a plan for those three years.
"I'm going to work hard because I'm aiming to be number one, so you'd better work just as hard!"
Said Daiwa Scarlet, who would be that equine trainee and companion for those next three years.
Three years with someone willing to endure anything, even when she shouldn't.
Three years of travel, birthdays, resolutions, holidays, and the ever-changing seasons.
Three years of friends and rivals, both of whom wanted to see her become faster and stronger.
Three years of running races in rain and shine, hot and cold, and everything in between- Of the spotlight and fame for the winners and self-reflection for the rest.
Three years of hardship and worry, over whether small pains could become larger harms, of determination and doubt, high mirth and low melancholy, all to do one thing.
Three years to run a two-minute race that could and would be decided by the finest sliver of a second.
And whoever was on the right side of that split second would be a champion.
Three years spent doing everything one could, only to be able to do nothing once her feet were on the track.
Three years of labor only to sit and watch to see whether she came out on the winning side of that unknown territory, vast and terrible, that lay between each tick of the clock.
Two minutes, in terms of wear and tension, that were longer than three years.